


Of Chess and Knicker Weasels

by DAqueen15



Series: The Tale of Arya Amell [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Chess, Circle Tower, F/M, Pre-Blight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAqueen15/pseuds/DAqueen15
Summary: Pre-Blight.Pacing the Circle Tower in the dead of night, Cullen does not expect to stumble across a flustered Arya Amell attempting to practice her chess skills.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Very first attempt at fanfic. Please be gentle!

A frustrated shriek cut through the silence of the library, snapping Cullen out of his daydream.

Unable to sleep, Cullen had been enjoying the peace and quiet of the sleeping tower on a late-night stroll. It had made a nice change from the usual chatter and explosions from the mage's lessons or experiments, and it felt rather freeing to not be weighed down by his armour as he paced the corridors. He had found himself in the library; it was one of his favourite places to patrol, for reasons he _swore_ had nothing to do with a certain mage who always seemed to be in there.  

But the spell of peace and quiet had been broken; Cullen was clearly not alone. His Templar instincts kicked in, as he slowly crept towards the source of the noise, ducking behind a bookcase. He mentally cursed at his decision not to wear his armour. Even if he’d just brought his sword…

"Andraste's knicker weasels!" The voice shrieked again, before a small thud.

At that, Cullen couldn’t stop himself.

"Andraste's _what?"_ Cullen exclaimed, ducking around the bookshelf. He blushed immediately at the sight before him.

Arya Amell sat alone, cross legged on the rug in front of the fireplace. An old book lay open in her lap and a chess set in front of her. She was glaring at a discarded chess piece he suspected she had just thrown at the bookcase opposite her. Her dark bushy hair was wilder than usual, haphazardly tucked behind her ears.

Maker's breath, she was beautiful _._

At the sound of his voice she looked up in horror and immediately flushed a shade of red to rival his own.

"Ser Cullen! I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone else would still be up and I-"

 "N-no, I'm sorry for interrupting- no one else is up, I…uh… couldn't sleep and…Maker's breath, what are you d-doing?"

"I'm…um…I'm practicing." She replied sheepishly, nervously tugging at her hair and nodding towards the chest set in front of her.

Cullen stared at her in stunned silence as she babbled on, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Jowan keeps wiping the floor with me, and so I thought if I practiced _really_ hard, without him noticing…maybe I could surprise him and wipe that _infuriating_ smirk off of his _stupid_ face and then maybe-"

Cullen chuckled, and Arya looked up in surprise.

"And what does that have to d-do with Andraste's…what was it?"

 "Knicker weasels." She flushed harder, if that were possible.

"Right," he chucked again, "What has chess got to d-do with those?"

"Well…It turns out practicing on my own is harder than I'd thought. I'd found a book on chess techniques, and thought that would help, but Brother Francis is proving to be a patronising _arse_ and is overall highly unhelpful." She glared at the offending book, slamming it shut and tossing it aside.

Cullen’s eyes widened in surprise; he had never seen her treat a book like that. She usually handled them as priceless treasures. He had caught her on more than one occasion chastising the younger apprentices for such treatment. This one must be _bad_.

"I could help you practice?" the offer was out of his mouth before he could think about it properly, and he inwardly cringed, anticipating an immediate rejection.

* * *

 

"You know how to play?" she asked, surprised. Cullen nodded and Arya stared back at him thoughtfully. There was still so much she didn't know about her Templar. Maker's breath, _the_ Templar. Their stolen glances and blushes did not make Cullen _hers._

And yet she couldn't stop staring at him as if he _were_ hers. In the quiet of the sleeping tower, she had him all to herself for a change. And _Andraste's knicker weasels_ she'd never seen him without his armour before; the loose tunic was showing off broad shoulders and muscular arms that were normally hidden in plate…

Cullen's face fell as he turned to leave. Arya panicked; she'd forgotten to answer his question.

_Maker please don’t let me have ruined this._

"N-no wait! Please… if…if you wouldn't mind. That would be..." _Wonderful. Amazing._ "…helpful."

She cringed at her inability to speak coherently around him, convinced that he would change his mind, stalk away and report her to Greagoir for being out of bed so late.

And yet Cullen's face lit up, and she swore she felt her heart stop. She watched as he came towards her, crouching to pick up her discarded Queen, before settling down across the board from her. He reached across with the piece, and as she stretched back to take it from him their hands brushed. In her surprise, she fumbled and dropped it. Flushing _again_ (Maker's breath, she felt like she was on fire), she focused on setting up her pieces, determined not to look at him.

"So…" Arya started, steadying her voice and trying to distract herself from the ridiculous urge to throw herself across the chess board and kiss him. "Where did you learn to play?"

"Oh…w-well as a child I played with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won. Which was _all_ the time," he smiled, "My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won…"

Cullen looked at the chess board, smiling fondly, lost in the memory. Arya gazed back at him in wonder; this was the most he'd ever spoken to her without stammering. She grinned. _Progress._

Cullen looked up suddenly, as if he'd briefly forgotten she was there.

"So…er… I know _exactly_ the kind of problem you're facing," He grinned awkwardly. And adorably. She had to stop herself from swooning. Maker help her…

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to get another chapter done, huzzah! I also made a couple of tweaks to Chapter One, although nothing major. 
> 
> I think I have a couple more short chapters in me for this particular fic, but we shall see!
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Arya waited for the last of her fellow apprentices to blow out their candles and begin snoring softly, before silently dressing and and creeping out of her dormitory. Her entire body felt tight with apprehension as she tiptoed her way through the corridors and down the stairs, making her way back towards the library. The previous night, she had she had been worried about getting caught out of bed out of hours as she followed the familiar route; now an entirely different fear gripped at her chest.

She had skirted around the topic of meeting with Cullen again, terrified of scaring him off and ruining what was quite possibly the best evening of her life. Cullen had seemed reluctant to discuss anything further meetings himself, casting her hopes into further doubt.

Before she knew it, Arya reached the heavy wooden doors to the library. She took a deep breath, before tentatively reaching out to turn the door knob.

Suddenly, she pulled her hand back in panic. Instead, she leaned forward and rested her head against the door with a small thud. Closing her eyes, she attempted to clear her racing thoughts, and shake away the doubt gnawing at her chest.

_Get it together Amell, what’s the worst that could happen?_

Straightening herself, she reached up to comb her fingers through her unruly hair trying to tame it, to no avail. One more deep breath, and Arya slowly pushed the door open, slipping through and tentatively making her way through the bookshelves towards the light of the fireplace.

* * *

 

_She’s not coming,_ Cullen silently cursed, _what was I thinking?_

He sat crossed legged before the fireplace, the chess set in front of him. Much like how he had found Arya the night before. A smile briefly tugged at his lips at the memory, before his doubt consumed him again.

The previous night had been wonderful. For the first time, he had Arya’s company all to himself, completely free of the usual worries of judgemental stares from his fellow Templars, or fearful glances from the other mages. He hadn’t wanted to spoil things by asking if they would meet again, especially as Arya hadn’t seemed to want to bring it up herself. If it was going to be a onetime occurrence he was going to make the most of it, Maker be damned. As he lay in bed afterwards, grinning like an idiot and feeling lighter than he had in months, he had told himself that he was content with this.

But now, sat alone in the quite of the library faced with the very real possibility that she wasn’t coming, he knew he had been lying to himself. He had hoped with every fibre in his being that she had enjoyed herself and would want to meet again. Even if she had just wanted to practice enough to finally beat Jowan at chess, that would be enough for him. But now, doubt clawed at his chest. He was a Templar, and she was a mage. Why would she want to spend more time with one of her jailors?

Maker, he was a fool. Sighing, he flicked over his king in defeat, and stood. With one last glance at the chess board, he turned to leave, rounding the corner of the bookshelf and immediately walked straight in to Arya.

She yelped as she nearly fell backwards. Instinctively Cullen’s hands shot out to steady her, as Arya’s own hands reached out to grip at the nearest object to right herself, which just so happened to be his shirt. They stared at each other in shock.

_She’s here. She’s actually here._

They stood frozen like that for what felt like hours, hearts racing, his amber eyes gazing into her icy blue. He’d never noticed the faint freckles scattered over the top of her nose, and he longed to reach out and trace them with his fingertips, committing the location of each one to memory. Cullen was captivated by the warmth of her body against his and her faint smell of vanilla; he never wanted to let go. Her hands softened against his chest and he felt sure she’d be able to feel the hammering of his heart.   

Suddenly, he came back to himself. He was overstepping his bounds, he knew it. Quickly, but reluctantly, he released her and stepped away. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and tried to avoid her gaze. His head was desperately scrabbling for words to apologise and excuse himself, when she interrupted his thought process with a small cough.

“Shall we?”

He looked up. Her face was flushed, but she was beaming up at him, gesturing towards the board. He felt his heart stop.

“I…yes, of c-course.”

_Always._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, please let me know what you think!
> 
> May or may not expand this particular idea in the future. I have a lot of ideas running around my head for these two, so we shall see!


End file.
